Mistletoe
by SmarticleParticle
Summary: On Christmas Day, A and BB overhear an awkward conversation between Matt, Mello and Near, and decide to have a bet. Some MxM. May contain slash, swears, angst, awkwardness and crack.
1. Now KISS!

**A/N: Well, here I am with another fluffy Death Note fic. Yes, I know it's a Christmas fic. Yes, I know it's the middle of August. No, I don't care. Every day is Christmas in my world! :D I'm sort of worried that Mello and Matt are sort of OOC, so please tell me what you think. Also, mild MxM, but I tried to make this more cute than romantic. ^_^ I'll probably continue it at some point, but I don't know. Anyway, I'm rambling now. Enjoy the story! **

* * *

Mello groaned and opened his eyes, burying his face in his pillow. The bedroom was tinted with pearly silver light, which could only mean that it had snowed.

The blond-haired boy sat bolt upright and rushed to the window, carelessly throwing the curtains aside. Snow, on Christmas Day? Mello blinked his green eyes in disbelief, trying to remember his last white Christmas.

"Matt. Matt, wake up," he whispered shaking his room-mate's shoulder. "Matt!"

Matt rolled over, still half-asleep, and murmured something along the lines of "hmphmngmph, Mello..."

"But Matt, it _snowed_!" Mello persisted, giving the boy a hard pinch on the arm.

"Seriously?" Matt, now wide awake, jumped up and bounded to the window. The two teenagers leaned on the windowsill with their faces pressed up against the glass, awestruck by the transformation of the Wammy's House grounds. Everything was coated in a gleaming white sheet, like icing on a Christmas cake.

"I double dare you to throw a snowball at Roger," Mello chuckled.

"No way, I'll get in so much trouble!" Matt replied. "We'd better not let Near go out in that," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Why not?"

"We might lose him."

Mello stifled his laughter at lightly punched Matt's arm. "Hey, you can't say that! As much as I wish Near _would_ get lost in the snow, that's offensive!"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Offensive to who? It's not like he can hear us."

"I wouldn't say that," said a monotone child's voice from behind them.

Mello just stopped himself jumping into Matt's arms, Scooby-Doo style. He glared at the hunched-over boy who stood in the now-open doorway. "How the hell did you know we were up?"

Matt looked equally shocked. "Yeah, and what gives you the right to just walk in here? We could have been... I don't know, we could have—" He struggled to think of something they could have been doing that didn't sound weird.

"We could've been naked or something!" Mello interjected.

An awkward silence descended. Mello's cheeks reddened as he realised what that sounded like. "Crap... I didn't mean—"

Near smirked in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Yeah, because you two _would_ be naked together."

"You shouldn't know about stuff like that, you're only _ten_!" Matt spluttered, feeling as embarrassed as his friend looked.

"And you're only thirteen," Near deadpanned.

"Will you keep it down!" Mello hissed. "If Near could hear us from his room or wherever he was creeping on us from, who knows who else might be listening?"

"Relax, Mello," said Matt. "It's, like, six am. Nobody else is gonna be up. Now, let's go out in the snow!"

Unfortunately, Matt was wrong in thinking they had not been overheard. As the three boys tiptoed out of Matt and Mello's room and crept down the hall, none of them noticed the two older boys crouched a few feet away at the end of the corridor.

The stockier boy with sandy hair turned to his lanky friend. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, B?" he whispered.

Beyond Birthday studied A's face—the two were so close they could almost read each other's thoughts. "I reckon I am." As an afterthought, he added, "five pounds says they won't."

"You're on."

The boys nodded to each other, before slinking back to their shared room and beginning to iron out the finer details of their plan.

* * *

Christmas was Mello's favourite time of the year; it was one of the few occasions when he felt the pressure of beating Near lift from his shoulders, if only for a day. He was aware that Christmas at Wammy's House was far from normal—not many of the children were close enough to give each other presents, and the thought of succeeding L still hung over them like a shadow—but he enjoyed the relatively relaxed atmosphere. Besides that, Christmas was a time for fun, merriment, friendship—and chocolate.

The diehard chocoholic nibbled on his only present, savouring every bite. This year, Matt had given him an unusually large bar of cheap dark chocolate from the local supermarket, and he intended to make it last. Supermarket chocolate had a special taste all of its own.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Mmm?" His friend answered without taking his eyes off his GameBoy. Sometimes Mello wondered if the thing was superglued to his hands or something.

"Wanna go upstairs? It's getting kinda noisy in here." Mello indicated the group of primary-school kids in the room with them, all of them squabbling over something. A few older kids, including Linda and A, watched them with passive amusement. Near crouched well away from everyone on the other side of the room, painstakingly creating an impressive model of the House of Commons out of playing cards and Lego. As usual, he was diligently ignoring everyone.

Mello narrowed his eyes. A was standing on his own, which was unheard of. The ace student always, _always_ had B with him—the two were best friends and partners in crime, just like Mello and Matt.

The boy shrugged as he and Matt traipsed out of the room. It wasn't like he cared—B was probably trying to convince Roger to let the older kids have some alcohol or something.

"Boo!" Beyond cried as he leaped out from behind the door, nearly giving Mello a heart attack.

"B! What the hell, dude?" Matt yelled, apparently having been just as startled as Mello was.

B said nothing and just stood in the doorway, a smug grin plastered on his face. Mello was suddenly aware of snickering behind him.

"What's so funny?" he demanded as he turned to the group of children, who all stopped laughing at once—except for one boy.

A stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, chuckling and gazing at the spot just above Matt and Mello's heads. Mello cautiously followed his line of sight.

"Oh, _hell_ no," he breathed, glaring at the sprig of mistletoe dangling from B's long fingers as if it offended him.

"Hell _yes,_ Mihael Keehl," B crooned delightedly, seeming to savour the look of pure horror on the younger boys' faces. "You know the rules—the two people under the mistletoe have to kiss—it's tradition! Now _kiss_!"

There was an explosion of laughter behind them. "Come on, Mello! Get into the Christmas spirit!" someone cried. Mello turned to Matt helplessly, who looked just as mortified as he did.

"It _is_ tradition, Mello..." Matt said apologetically.

"What the hell, Matt? You're not supposed to side with them! Back me up, man!"

"Go on, Blondie, you know you want to!" B guffawed.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the kids behind them chanted.

Mello's eyes widened. How were they going to explain this to Roger if he overheard? Quickly deciding between the lesser of two evils, he leaned in and brushed Matt's lips with his own.

An ecstatic cheer rose up from their audience, and A swaggered over to them. He held his hand out to B. "I believe you owe me £5.00, my friend," he said cockily.

_It was a bet, the bastards!_ Mello looked down at the floor, unable to meet Matt's eyes. "God I hate you, B," he muttered, before storming off to his room.

He flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow, as he had done earlier that morning. Why did his first kiss have to be with his best friend, dammit?

The door to their room creaked open, and Mello didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"Mello, are you OK?" Matt whispered, sitting down on his own bed. Mello turned his head to look at him, and couldn't help blushing at the memory of Matt's lips on his own.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little embarrassed, I guess."

"More like a _lot_ embarrassed."

"Why do A and B have to be such assholes?" Mello groaned into his pillow.

"I guess that's just how they are. We don't have to stand for it, though," Matt said pensively. He got up and gazed out of the window at the still-falling snow.

Mello frowned. "What do you mean? What are you planning, Matt?"

Matt pulled his beloved goggles down over his eyes—a sure sign that he meant business. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Have you ever heard the saying," he grinned, the smile rapidly spreading and evolving into a smirk, "that 'revenge is a dish best served cold?'"


	2. Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

"What're you planning, Matt?" Mello grumbled a few hours later as his redheaded friend led him up the narrow steps of the Wammy's House bell tower. His trainers slid about on the wet stone, and he had to keep his hands braced against the walls to keep himself from falling.

"It's a surprise. Wait and see!" Matt called over his shoulder. Underneath his goggles, his eyes were sparkling with glee. Mello sighed. Whatever it was, he hoped it was good—for Matt's sake. He hadn't bothered with gloves or a proper coat or anything, and his fingers were stiff and going numb.

At long last, the two teenagers reached the top of the tower and squeezed past the great brass bell that had been silent for years. It took all of their strength to push the heavy oak door aside, and they were immediately greeted by an icy blast of frozen air. Mello screwed his eyes shut against the tiny shards of frost that swirled in the wind.

"Any particular reason we're up here on the roof in the freezing cold?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, check this out," Matt said, grabbing his friend's arm and towing him over to the gutter at the edge of the roof. The roof had a very shallow, almost undetectable gradient, so there was no risk of falling. Even so, Mello took great care to look anywhere but over the edge of the mansion; heights were one of the few things he was genuinely scared of.

"Matt, if you've dragged me out here to look at a bloody snowman, I'll hide your GameBoy."

A brief expression of pure, unadulterated horror flickered across the gamer's face. "You wouldn't," he said in a disbelieving whisper.

"I would."

Matt swallowed hard, knowing full well that his friend wasn't someone to break a promise. "Um, okay then," he gulped. Now that his precious GameBoy was at stake, his ramshackle plan didn't seem quite as brilliant as it had half an hour ago. "It's over there," he said as he pointed towards a towering mound of snow a few metres away.

Mello carefully slid over to it. Now he was _really_ wishing he'd worn something warmer, as the knife-sharp air was making his teeth chatter and the wind was whipping his fair hair around his head and over his eyes. "What's that supposed to be?" he asked as he flicked a few blond strands away from his face.

"It's a lever mechanism," Matt explained as he bent down and brushed some snow away from the base of the pile, revealing a large, half-rotted wooden plank and two large sticks wedged underneath it and balanced on bricks. The contraption was situated right on the edge of the roof.

"Where did you get all that?"

Matt grinned mischievously. "There's loads of bricks and wood and stuff lying around up here, from when they had to repair the roof last year. I come up here and have a smoke sometimes, and that's how I found it."

Mello frowned. "When do you do that? I've never seen you coming up here."

"Our room was starting to smell like tobacco, so I started coming up here at night. If I can do it without waking you up, that means I won't wake Roger up either. It just proves my awesome ninja powers."

Mello rolled his eyes; Matt was probably the least athletic of all the kids at Wammy's—the smoking couldn't be doing his lungs any good—and the idea of him being a secret ninja was almost laughable.

Matt fished a cigarette from his pocket and held it out. "Want one?" he asked as he lit one for himself.

Mello shook his head. He could never understand why Matt would want to smoke; it smelled foul. He had only tried a cigarette once, and that had made him cough for half an hour afterwards, much to the smoker's amusement.

"I think I can see what you're planning with this," Mello gestured to the crude contraption, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Earlier I overheard A and B saying they were going to go out and take a walk later. All we have to do is lever this up when they come out, and splat! It'll all come down on their heads."

Mello felt a smile beginning to spread across his face. "We'll show those assholes what happens when you mess with us!"

The boys shared a jubilant high-five before hunkering down to wait for their victims, but not before Mello had run back inside to get their coats and a flask of hot coffee.

* * *

Roger Ruvie's back creaked as he bent down to tie his shoelaces. He winced. The cold weather wasn't doing the old man any good—he would have to get some painkillers from the school nurse as soon as he could.

"I don't see why _I_ have to do this," he grumbled to himself. "Clearing snow from the paths is the bloody caretaker's job, not mine!" He grabbed the shovel he had propped up against the wall and gripped it in two gloved hands, as one might hold an AK-47. _The quicker I can get this done, the quicker I can go inside in the warm,_ he told himself.

* * *

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and it made the ice crystals on the roof glitter like... well, ice crystals.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"How do we know it'll actually be A and B who come outside? I mean, we've got no way of seeing who's down there."

Matt appeared to have considered this. "All the other kids were too busy playing games and stuff to go outside. Anyway, even if they wanted to go out, Roger wouldn't let them 'cos the caretaker's gone on holiday and he wouldn't want to be cleaning up all the snow that would get traipsed in." Matt tapped his head proudly. "Don't you worry, Mels. I've thought of everything."

"Will you _stop_ calling me Mels!" Mels exploded. "That's a frickin' girl's name!"

"Sorry. It must be hard enough _looking_ like a girl, let alone having a girly name. I—" A large snowball to the face cut Matt off mid-sentence. "Oh, you asked for it!" he cried, scooping up a handful of snow and preparing to lob it at Mello.

"Wait!" the target yelled, holding up his hands. "I think I heard the door open."

Matt listened. There was the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut. "Let's do it," he nodded.

Together, both genius teenagers pushed down on their levers and the plank eased itself up, sending its load toppling over the edge. Mello managed to grab the plank before it too fell; they were aiming to surprise the people below, not kill them.

They waited eagerly for the cries of shock from their victims. When they came, however, they were not in the slightly squeaky tones of their adolescent targets.

"WHEN I CATCH WHO DID THIS YOU CAN BET YOUR ARSES YOU WON'T LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER CHRISTMAS, YOU LITTLE SODS!"

The perpetrators shared a horrified glance. "Shit..." Mello breathed.

"I think we got Roger," Matt murmured, cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

"You don't say?" Mello retorted, doing an excellent impression of the Nicolas Cage meme face.

"Run!" Matt cried, dragging Mello up by the shoulders and shoving him forward as they sprinted for the safety of their room.

* * *

"What now?" Matt flopped down on his bed, and Mello dropped down next to him. They were fairly sure Roger wouldn't find out who had given him a good soaking; they had left no incriminating evidence behind—they hoped—and none of the other orphans had noticed their absence—they hoped.

"However we decide to give them payback, I think _I_ should be the one to come up with the plan. Your plans suck, Matt," Mello hit his friend over the head with his pillow. It was rather satisfying.

"It didn't work, then?" said a voice from the doorway.

"Near!" Mello cried. "You have _got_ to stop doing that!"

"Stop doing what?" Near tilted his head to the side and widened his eyes.

_Damn,_ Mello thought. _The kid's adorable and he knows it._

"Creeping on us!" Matt answered, apparently unfazed by Near's creepy-but-cute act.

"Well _excuse_ me," Near said, wandering into the room, twirling a piece of white hair between his fingers, "but I was _going_ to ask if you required my assistance in exacting revenge on B and A."

"Why?" Mello asked. "What do you have against them?"

The younger boy sighed. "Getting called 'albino' gets tiring very quickly. Besides, watching B force you two to kiss was most uncomfortable."

Mello looked at Matt, who shrugged. "All right," he concluded. "You're in."

* * *

**A/N: Finally, I've managed to update this! I apologise for the lack of MxM, but maybe we'll be seeing a little bromance in later chapters ;) I hope the mental image of Mello doing the Nic Cage meme face gave you lulz. XD See you next time! :D**


	3. Merry Frickin' Christmas

The three boys sat idly in Mello and Matt's room, having made exactly no progress since letting Near join them. They were supposedly 'thinking up a plan'; in reality, Matt was fixated with his GameBoy, Near was playing with a Transformer and Mello was nibbling at his chocolate, pretending not to care about anything. However, as much as he hated to admit it, he _did_ care. He hated the way he and Matt had been made to look like fools in front of the entire orphanage, and hating was something Mello had had a lot of practice at. He had never told anyone of the quiet anger that simmered inside him—except for Matt, whom he told everything.

Now, after today's shenanigans, he finally had someone to direct his general frustration at: A and B. Sitting around like this wasn't doing anything to improve his mood. He'd had enough of thinking. He wanted to be _doing_.

"Am I the only one here who's actually bothered about getting our revenge?" he wondered aloud.

"Unless you come up with a decent plan, then yes," Matt answered. "We all saw what a right royal cock-up _my_ plan was."

"Agreed," Near stated.

Mello flopped down on his bed. That was another thing that had been bugging him; when B had held the mistletoe above their heads, it had seemed like Matt had _wanted_ to kiss him. He certainly hadn't objected.

This thought was more than a little disturbing. Mello had never really thought about it before, but was it possible that Matt was gay? For _him_? He shook his head. No, that was impossible. Matt was definitely straight. Probably.

And then there was another question; was _Mello_ gay? He considered this. He'd always assumed he was straight, but his rational mind couldn't completely rule out that scenario. He blushed as he remembered the sensation of Matt's lips against his own. He'd been too humiliated to comprehend his feelings at the time, but when he looked back on it... it had felt almost _nice_.

"Hey, Mels. Whatcha thinking about?" Matt called, _still_ not taking his eyes off the screen.

"The way in which you were smiling while stroking your lips suggests you were remembering the kiss and associating pleasant feelings with it," said Near.

Mello stared at the ten-year-old in dumbfounded astonishment, his comeback stuck in his throat.

"Smooth, Near, real smooth," Matt guffawed. He started to giggle, but hid it with a ridiculously over-the-top coughing fit.

"Anyway," Near continued, "I have been thinking, and I have an idea."

"Oh, really?" Mello raised a sceptical eyebrow. "And what might that be? If there's a risk of getting Roger again, I'm out."

"Same here," Matt nodded.

Near blinked expressionlessly. "Do you not trust me?"

"Not really, no," Mello crossed his arms.

"Well then. The plan," Near got up and peered up and down the corridor, before closing the door and shuffling over to them, "is this."

* * *

The boys huddled by the kitchen door. From inside came the clattering of pots and pans and the sterile smell of washing-up liquid. They could vaguely hear the cook humming "Deck the Halls" to herself.

"Everyone knows what they've got to do?" Near's question was met with affirming nods from his teammates.

"Matt goes in and distracts her, you sneak in and steal the chilli powder and I keep watch outside," Mello recited. "Got it."

"I still don't get why _I_ have to be the one to create a diversion," Matt grumbled, "it means I'm the one most likely to get in trouble!"

"If we get caught then we'll _all_ get in trouble," Near corrected. "Besides, I chose you because you're the most naturally inquisitive and irritating of all of us," he said slowly, deliberating over his word choice. "She won't be suspicious of you going in and asking weird questions about what they eat for Christmas dinner in other countries or whatever you're going to ask. Besides, she likes you."

"Fine," the redhead huffed, before standing and edging nervously into the kitchen. He looked back at Mello for support.

"Go on," the blond mouthed.

Matt took a deep breath and stepped fully inside. A few seconds later, they heard voices.

"Good luck, Near," Mello hissed as the youngest boy ducked into the kitchen.

Near dived behind the closest counter and peered over the top. The cook was standing with her back to him and Matt was chatting animatedly. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he knew the woman wouldn't be fully distracted for long. He had to act fast.

As his socked feet slid silently across the tiles to the cupboard where the spices were kept, he had an overwhelming urge to hum the _Mission Impossible_ theme. How odd.

He opened the cupboard door just a crack and reached inside, before his fingers closed around a small pot. He took it out and read the label: '_Chilli powder. Warning—extra hot. Use sparingly._' He dashed back across the room, giving Matt the thumbs-up as he went.

Near crouched down next to Mello in the corridor outside. "Got it," he said, delicately holding the pot between his thumb and forefinger. Mello took it, opened the lid, and sniffed it.

"Jesus on a bike, that's hot!" he exclaimed. "It's perfect!" he grinned wickedly.

A few seconds later, they were joined by their gamer friend, and the trio ran upstairs to carry out the second part of their masterplan.

* * *

"This is gonna be a lot harder than last time. A and B won't be so easily distracted," Mello fretted out loud.

"Relax, Mels," Matt drawled in a weirdly sleazy tone. "I have all this worked out, and this time it won't fail. I swear on my goggles," he said, pulling them down over his eyes.

"But what are you going to do?"

"Just you watch."

Near and Mello watched curiously as Matt swaggered over to the door of A and B's room, keeping out of sight of its occupants. He ruffled his hair a bit and started breathing heavily, as if he'd just been running. After a moment of this, he flung open the door and yelled, "Oh my God, guys, you _have_ to come and see this! I've hacked the TV so we've got the Playboy channel!"

There was some angry muttering from inside. The two brightest students at Wammy's clearly weren't happy about being disturbed. Mello smiled as his imagination filled in the gaps and he pictured all the things Matt could have walked in on.

"But—but—" Matt stammered, before a wave of inspiration swamped him. "One of the women has her boobs out! Come quick, before Roger finds out!" Matt skidded out of the room, followed by a reluctant-looking A and B. Mello frowned. Could they be gay, too?

Nevertheless, the distraction had worked; the two older boys had rounded the corner without so much as glancing behind them at the younger ones.

Not wanting to waste any time, Mello and Near entered the bedroom and immediately found what they were looking for; a bottle and two half-full glasses of red wine, which had either been pestered out of Roger or stolen. As B was involved, Mello suspected it was the latter.

Each boy took a pinch of chilli powder and sprinkled it into a glass. "Do you think that's enough?" Mello wondered.

"It says 'use sparingly,'" Near read from the label, "but it doesn't define 'sparingly,'" he mused, twirling his scruffy hair.

"Then I guess we can't be too careful," Mello grinned, adding another pinch to the glasses. And another. And another. And another. "Screw it," he sighed, shaking the whole pot over each glass.

"They're coming!" Near cried from by the door, his eyes wide in alarm.

The boys had just fled the crime scene when their victims rounded the corner, complaining about Matt's 'hacking'. A very smug-looking 'hacker' trailed a few metres behind them, either unnoticed or ignored, and joined his friends in their hiding place.

A few seconds later, the heavenly sound of spluttering and choking caressed their ears. Unfortunately, they couldn't stay to enjoy their victory for long, and had to leg it. Everyone at Wammy's knew how batshit crazy B was.

As they fled, Mello glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see that they weren't being pursued—yet. "Merry frickin' Christmas, asshats," he hissed triumphantly.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's it for this story! Matt and Mello got their revenge, even though B probably beat them up for it. ^_^ I didn't mean to make A and B the antagonists of this story, but they just turned out that way. I love them really, so maybe I'll write a BB fic to make up for it. :3 Love you all! Bye! x**


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